April 22nd, 2020

hasui saitama mountains

(no subject)

 Woke up before 9 this morning, did exercises for owie joints, then because the wind was still blowing cold air through my ill-fitting windows, pulled duvet back over me and went back to sleep for nearly two hours. Dreamed I heard someone in my house, tried to call out to them but my throat was too dry to make any noise, turned out to be my brother dropping something off and coming up the stairs to use the bathroom. But he'd let two small cats into the house somehow, white with caramel stripes around their middles like belts, and they were playing in the study and leaping up to the windowsill to look out the window at the warm spring scenery. This was all much pleasanter in feel than I've made it sound, and I woke to the same kind of bright sunshiny day as in my dream, only colder.

Finished Boswell's London Journal finally. Should stick it in tonight's recycle because that binding is not long for the world. (Look, tablet. Stop highlighting words and offering to insert email addresses in their place. Mattaku.) Am currently reading Ursula Vernon's Swordheart to see how she writes, but conclude her blogs are far more interesting than her fiction. This one is repetitive Him lusting for Her but telling himself it's impossible and Her pining for Him but telling herself it's impossible, over and over and over and over until we get to a quarter of the way from the end. Tedious. Really must start something nonfiction and dry, because I'm getting weary of reading what I'm reading, and with nonfiction I don't expect to be entertained so don't repine when I'm not.